No2
by LeontopodiumNivale
Summary: Lydia and Stiles reunite again.


She was standing there all alone, sweaty, bloody, breathing heavily. Her skirt was torn and her knees were bleeding. She looked startled, haunted, the eyes too big and the strawberry blonde hair all messed up, but she didn't seem to care, she didn't even seem to notice. She was standing very still, almost as if she weren't breathing at all now. As if she was frozen in time and space. It had to have worked. It couldn't have all been for nothing. She needed it to have worked. She needed the hole his absence had created to be filled or it would swallow her whole. She couldn't, didn't even dare to think about the others, their battle, their scars cause it caused her even more pain and she was so exhausted already. She couldn't sleep and all her dreams were haunted, even the awake ones. "Remember I love you" she'd whisper in repeat, to shoo the daemons away and she'd try to hold onto it, to his voice, to him. She was afraid that it would all slip away again, that she'd lose him again, though he was already lost. He couldn't be gone; he would never be gone again. "I love you too" She used to say, with her voice shaking, crispy, sad and sometimes even angry. What if she never saw him again and it all wouldn't have meant a thing. Not if he didn't know. Not if this one silly kiss was the only one they'd ever share and all they ever were was what they could've been. She should've told him, but she wanted to wait, she wanted it to be right and she was afraid, cause he deserved it all and now it would be nothing. He had to have known, like she had always known, right?  
"Please dear god, please!" She didn't believe in a god but if there was one she'd pray all day and each day if it got her Stiles back. It was selfish to want only him and only for her, but she had never been a good girl and if god would grant wishes it wouldn't be for her, but for him.  
She had started to conclude her days by recalling, reversing all she knew about him until she fell asleep only to have nightmares, some with him present, some without him, even more terrible. She was losing her mind, so she quit the sleep altogether. They all needed for this to end, for their fight to finally be over, for it to be worth something. The smell of death refused to vanish and she was sick to her stomach. It was too loud for her to hear anything, slowly, but surely she was going mad. She thought she had lost it when everyone denied his existence, but it only got worse from then on. Cause knowing that he was there but she couldn't get him back, get to him.  
She inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply, shaking a little, still waiting, hoping for the impossible to happen. It had to be this spot, yes the Jeep was gone, but this was it. She had been running here, cause she had felt it in her bones and she wanted to scream so badly, but she couldn't she refused. It had to be, she had to have been right, right? He'd be here to tell her, he'd have figured it out, with him it would be alright and then suddenly without a poof or a shake or anything at all, he appeared.  
He looked catatonic, beaten down, but it was him, living, breathing, standing. And when he looked up and saw her, that's when he realized, he was free. She almost had missed him over there, so small, so dusty, almost as dark as the night. She had been crying, kneeling on the parking lot and there he was. "Lydia?" He asked. His voice was so harsh, but barely there at all as if he had forgotten he even had one. All she could do was smile at him and she started crying again and he did too.  
He fell into her arms like a puppet whose strings had been cut, like he was never going to get up again and she held onto him, pulling him closer.  
His tears had washed clean his face while hers had smeared it full of mascara. She pulled them up, still in the embrace, touching his face with such amazement, her tears stopped running for a short while. She didn't dare to make a noise, she just leaned in a little closer and kissed him. It was almost a little wild at first, but it felt like coming home. She still hadn't told him how she loved him and how she had missed him and she coulnd't lay it all in one kiss, not even a thousand would be enough, but his hands were stuck in her tangled hair and she was remembering the contours of his face, his smell, his taste. She wanted to take it all in, he was back, he'd know. This was only the beginning.


End file.
